Time Cut Short
by Sherlocked-Dawn
Summary: John is called back to war and Sherlock can't take it. Sad fic. Sort of out of character, but give it a try!


**Please forgive me for this fic, I was sort-of in a dark place whilst in the hospital, but I hope you enjoy anyways.**

_Time Cut Short_

"Sherlock," John whispered, sitting at the edge of Sherlock's bed, looking at an extremely thin, pale, skeleton-like figure curled-up on the floor.

"Eat something. Please. Your killing yourself. You haven't left this room in four days. God Sherlock, look at you."

John had announced that he was leaving for Afghanistan again last week. He was going back into battle. Since that night, Sherlock hadn't eaten and drank anything but a cup of water.

Sherlock looked up from his corner. "Don't go. Please John. I'm begging you. It's killing me."

John got up and walked to him, squatting down in front of the darker-haired man.

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Sherlock. I have to go. It wasn't up to me to go back. But I'll tell you something. I'll promise you something. I'll come back to you. I won't ever leave you alone."

He bent over and kissed the top of Sherlock's head. "Now come on, you need to eat something."

He pulled the taller man up and helped walk him into the living room. "Stay here. I'm going to fix you some soup."

When he came back, he sat next to Sherlock and made sure he finished the bowl. "Better?" John asked, setting the empty bowl on the ground next to him.

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you."

John flipped on the telly and found a channel that looked promising and turned the volume down.

"I know how worried you are about me leaving but remember, I'm a doctor. I'm not even going out on the field. Everything is going to be fine. I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to spend time with you. Please cheer up."

Sherlock gave a small smile and kissed John. "I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about you. I don't want you to go. Who is going to help me annoy Lestrade and Donovan?"

"Oh I think you do a fine job of that yourself," John laughed, leaning in for another kiss.

"I'm sure going to miss these lips," John ran finger across Sherlock's mouth and kissing him again.

"Is that all your going miss? Because I could leave if you want…" Sherlock pretended to stand up before John shoved him down. "No you don't," John laughed.

"I love you Sherlock. Remember that I will always love you."

Sherlock smiled. "I love you more than life itself."

Early that morning, John woke and looked down at Sherlock who was laying with his head on John's chest. God, how he was going to miss that man. He listened to his breathing and ran his fingers through Sherlock's messy curls and took in the precious minutes before five o'clock came.

When his alarm went off, Sherlock woke up and looked at John with fear. "Its time," John said, his voice barely audible.

"Your scared." Sherlock told him.

"No, I'm… I'm fine," John lied, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"John, you know you can't lie to me."

"Alright. I'm a tad scared but it's just nerves. I'm okay. I promise." He kissed Sherlock before throwing back the covers and getting out of bed.

"Besides, it's just for a year. I'll be back before you know it." He gave a half-hearted smile and walked out of the room.

It was a quiet ordeal. John got dressed and checked his suitcases while Sherlock prepared breakfast.

When it was finally time for John to leave, Sherlock enveloped John in a bone-crushing hug.

"Be brave. It'll be alright," he said, more to himself than to John.

"Remember, one year. It seems like a long time right now but it'll go by quick."

Sherlock nodded. "One year. I love you so much John. It will be okay."

"I love you too, Sherlock. I love you so much. I'll write you. I promise."

Sherlock bent down for a beautifully tragic kiss. "I already miss you," Sherlock whispered in John's ear.

When Sherlock pulled back, John saw tears in the taller mans eyes.

John put a hand on Sherlock's cheek. "I miss you too. Promise me that you'll take care of yourself."

Sherlock sniffed. "Yes. I will."

John gave him a reassuring smile and one last lingering kiss before walking out and closing the door behind him.

Sherlock continued on with life in a monotonous way. Without John, work wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. He seemed to be going through the motions.

The cases Lestrade gave him were boring. Even the ones that used to excite him. They weren't anything without his John.

Sherlock even slept in John's bed just to breathe in his scent of aftershave and musk. But after a while, the room started to smell of Sherlock instead.

Sherlock finally got a letter from John a few weeks after he had departed.

Dear Sherlock,

Sorry it took me so long to write, it's a bloody mess up here. No wonder they sent recruitments. I've been up to my neck with patients. Some with shot wounds and others with missing limbs. I really miss my bed, I'd give anything to get a good nights sleep. But more than anything Sherlock, I miss you and our adventures. I wish I could see you and hold you one more time, but I keep telling myself I'll be home in a year. One year and I'll get to kiss you again. One year and we will be together again. But God Sherlock, it seems so far away now. Every morning when I wake and realize I'm not by your side, it kills me. I hope that your okay though. I hope that you are eating and being strong. I have to go now but I will try to write again when I can. I love you Sherlock.

Love always,

John

Sherlock held the letter close to his heart. One year seemed impossibly far away but the letter reassured him. Everything was going to be okay.

Sherlock sat down at his cluttered desk and wrote John back, telling him about the cases he had been on and how boring they were, how Mrs. Hudson was doing and promising him that he had been eating at least two meals a day.

After he told him how much he missed him, he signed his name, carefully folded the paper up and stuck it in an envelope.

Sherlock hadn't heard from John in three months. Sherlock knew he was probably very busy but wished that he would write back, even a quick 'I love you' would work.

He had even sent John a couple of smaller letters just to make sure he had gotten them.

One day he was playing his violin, staring blankly out of the window when there was a knock at his door.

He opened it to find two sharply dressed army men at his door. He knew what had happened before they opened their mouths.

"Mr. Holmes," the shorter one said, "we are here to inform you that John Watson had passed on. A bomb struck the camp he was in. No one survived. I'm so sorry for your loss."

The taller man held out an envelope. It was from John. "We found this. It's for you." Sherlock took it with a shivering hand.

"We are very sorry. John was a very brave man."

Sherlock whispered, "I know" before slamming the door in their faces.

He ripped open the letter and read:

Dearest Sherlock,

It is complete chaos here. The injured are coming in by the cartful. The enemy is gaining on us and I can feel the earth shake every time a bomb is dropped. I'm worried Sherlock. They are getting closer. I don't think I can do this. I want to be home with you. But I have to be brave. For both of us. I got your letter. Tell Mrs. Hudson I said hello and remember, only nine more months and I'll be home. I have to go, they just brought in more soldiers. I love you very much.

Love always,

John

Sherlock slowly walked up the stairs to their flat, crying. "John," he whispered. "John, no…"

He started getting angry. "How dare he! How dare he leave me! The bastard! John! God, John come back! Please… I'm begging."

He crumpled up the letter and threw it across the room. "God dammit John! How could you leave me? You promised! You PROMISED!"

Sherlock shoved everything off of his desk, picked his violin up and threw it at the window, cracking the glass.

"John! You bastard! Come back to me! Come BACK to me!"

More objects were thrown across the room. Glasses were smashed, books were torn apart.

After Sherlock wore himself out, he started sobbing. "John, no… Please no…"

He went to John's room and sat on the bed, picking up his pillow and hugging it.

Everything he loved and cared about was gone. John was the only person that he had ever wanted, ever needed and now he was alone again.

He knew what he had promised John. He would never break his promise to him under normal circumstances, but John broke his promise first. He was gone. He was never coming back.

Sherlock got up and locked John's door and laid down on his bed. Now that he was gone, Sherlock didn't want to live anymore. He decided it was time to join John.

It only took Sherlock seven days to die of starvation.

The End


End file.
